This one took me a while to write.
I wasn’t honestly sure where to start, so we’re going to start with me stating the facts. I had a second trimester miscarriage, and it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through in all of my 36 years.
Okay, got that out of the way.
The anniversary of my miscarriage is October 10th, and because I’m in a constant state of healing from this, writing about it seemed right.
Funny thing about tragedy, no matter how hard you try to run from it, it shows up everywhere. I remember I lost Champion, and no lie, a few of some of my favorite women got pregnant in rapid succession. Like legit, back to back. I was so fucking happy for them! It also gave me something else to focus on. Determined to be the best Aunty J ever, it was a welcome distraction.
All three women, who don’t know each other (Hey Cheryl, Ani and Miesha!), all had girls, and all of their beautiful names start with an “N”. In order of birth Neema, Naomi and Naija, named for their AUNTY NELL, clearly!
However, shit gets hard when someone has the thing you want more than breathing. When your faves aren’t chatting you up about their pregnancy it just ends up being you laying in the dark, running every scenario over and over again.
“What if I didn’t do this?”
“I should’ve done this, instead of that!”
“My baths were too hot.”
“You craved Jersey Mike’s, maybe it was the cold cuts.”
I had to have a reason, I craved one, but there wasn’t one. I had nothing but pain. Listen, that kind of pain is agonizing because there’s literally nothing you can do. The feeling of powerlessness drowned me every single day. Shit, I’m struggling staying afloat writing this. I never wanted something so bad in my life.
I went to the doctor, and everything was okay! A week later, my water broke in the middle of the night, and I joked about it, not really thinking my water actually broke. After a day or two, I was concerned, and called my OB, who is phenomenal. Long story short, we tried a few different things within 24 hours, but there was nothing anyone could do. Nothing. Surgery was my only option. I didn’t want that, I wanted my son.
Full Disclosure: The surgery was a bust, and I ended up going into actual labor.
So, not only do I have deal with the miscarriage, I’m having actual contractions and they are breaking and bending my body. I wasn’t prepared and neither was Teneal, and truth be told, I would not have survived without her. One contraction hit so hard, all I could do was yell, “This isn’t fair!” Anesthesia finally came, and I woke up empty. Emotionally and physically.
…I’ve never been able to get that out. So growth, right?
I wanted to turn my story into a novel, but could never get started. This is progress. This is healing because after typing all of that I feel like I can breathe a little bit.
My support group has been impeccable and still are. This shit has been hard, fam. But pain like this offers you two options, stay hurt, be bitter and remain in bondage, or change, grow, and heal and choose freedom. I chose the latter. But have I mentioned this shit has been hard? lol
And although it’s been..you guessed it, hard, it has also been filled with amazing clarity, growth, change, and elevation and I’m grateful!
I’ve been balls deep, so to speak, in spiritual and emotional growth and healing, to include inner child work, transmutation of karmic ties and bomb ass self-love rituals. I even launched two businesses inspired by Champion! I have never loved myself more than I do now, and even though I lost my greatest gift, I’m different, in the best way possible. The Motto: I’m keep running a cause a winner don’t quit on themselves. -King Bey
I gotta tell ya’ll about the spirit baby reading I had, mind. blown., but more on that later!
I promise you this though, when he does come into this world, I’m having a block party, and all of ya’ll are invited!
Thank you for allowing me this space.
You are loved, valued, and appreciated.